


Sweet Surrender

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bondage, Creative (read: sexual) Use of Magic, Other, aether bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: You may not have prevailed in the Chrysalis, but Nabriales is a magnanimous winner. He has what he desires, and he would prove to you that he bears you no ill will. PWP.
Relationships: Nabriales/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Sweet Surrender

The uneven plane of dark crystal beneath you is composed of myriad ridges and broken facets. What provides decently good traction for soles upon otherwise-smooth crystal now bites into your knees, the sensation a constant whisper at the back of your mind, though the majority of your attention is directed elsewhere. In front of you, specifically.

Nabriales stands before you, darkness fulminating about him as he waves his hands through an intricate spell. The bindings of aether wrapping you pull a shade tighter, another… and settle into place. You give an exploratory shrug, feeling the way it moves with you yet maintains restrictive pressure. Nifty.

“Comfortable?” He smirks.

You suppose you are; this  _ is _ what you requested when he suggested the two of you might  _ fool around _ to prove that there were no hard feelings after your combat. You raise your eyes to his face.

He grins; from below the mask the stretch of lips is all you can see, but his glee is plain in its broadness, as well as his tone when he speaks. “It is not too late to change your mind, of course…”

Swallowing hard, you shake your head mutely. Mutely, for you cannot make a sound through the aether sealing your mouth. Were you to back down, he would, of course, release you.

But that is not what you desire.

He laughs, delighted. “Ahhh, how  _ lovely. _ Should you find yourself reconsidering, you know how to signal as much, mmm?”

You nod. A thin rod of crystal rests in your bound hands; a bit of pressure from each is all it would take to snap it in twain. You swallow. You don’t expect to take that route. Surely you can withstand anything Nabriales can bring to bear.

His bootsoles ring in sharp cracks upon the crystal as he steps closer. He turns Tupsimati, holding the staff’s remnant by the horn as he bends toward you. You gasp as the broken wood of the handle presses against the underside of your chin, tipping your face up. Sharp edges press but do not cut, the keen sensation snapping your eyes to the slits of Nabriales’s mask. At this angle, the strange light catches one iris, illuminating it as it peeps through the lowest section.

“Then let us begin.” Slowly he draws a line down your throat, the center of your chest. “I propose, first, a challenge. Do not mistake me; I greatly enjoy the sight of you on your knees before me. But I wonder if I might… induce you to fall prostrate.” He chuckles, lascivious. The staff continues downward, leaving your ribcage to tease over your abdomen. “I will not touch you; should I do so, that means I yield the challenge to you. I will use only magic to try and bring you low. When you fall from your knees to lie upon the ground, that shall signify my victory.”

You cannot withhold a gasp as he pulls back, Tupsimati hovering just over your sex. Thwarted anticipation leaves your head spinning, but aether spirals down the relic from his hand, washing over your intimate flesh. You start at a fluttering sensation, pressed to your groin. With your mouth gagged, you can but make an inquisitive sound.

He chuckles in response. “Behold, but a fraction of the quakes I brought against you before. Yes, my pet; magic need not always be destructive,  _ dangerous; _ it can bring  _ pleasure _ as well.”

Indeed, as he steps back, the faint trembling sensation swells. Your face goes hot at the stimulation. You had assumed this challenge would be a simple one to meet, but the rapid flow of blood engorging your needy flesh suggests you might have underestimated his skill. You focus on breathing, even as the tremor increases in amplitude and rate to a  _ buzz. _

Sweat breaks out, leaving you hot and icy at once, shivering. Your hips try to buck into the sensation, thwarted when it moves right along with you. Nabriales, at least, seems amused, chuckling at your sudden needy state. You raise your eyes to him, face burning.

He stands, one hand upraised as he manipulates the spell. Aether stirs his robes, making the dark aura sheathing him flicker and tremble. For a moment you marvel at the precise control he wields, but that thought soon shatters beneath the pleasure knifing through your body.

Your thighs have begun to tremble with need, with the strain of the pleasure; fighting not to simply cant over, you spread them, broadening your body’s base. You realize you are making sounds, soft cries and whimpers through the aether gagging you. You cannot spare the energy to make yourself stop. He has earned that much, you decide, and keep your focus upon remaining upright.

It is no mean feat; your blood flows sluggish and fiery in your veins, as though it has been replaced with lava. Your scalp and nape prickle, pleasure and building need; you give in to let your head hang as you gasp for air. You have no idea how long you have been aching beneath this exquisite spell. A minute? Half an hour? Time no longer holds meaning. Nothing does, beyond your will to remain upright, slowly eroding under the onslaught of ecstasy.

“Tremble and fall to the ground before me!”

You raise your head. He floats now entirely off the ground, his glyph of power ignited, burning fiery before his face. The power of his spell ratchets up, wringing a cry from you. It is too much; your head spins as though every onze of blood has left it. Your legs spasm as you teeter at the precipice of pleasure. The convulsions pull your thighs tight together, and your hips buck, control long gone. Tipping over, you sprawl bonelessly onto your side, somehow not bashing your head on the hard crystal.

Not as though you likely would have noticed. You writhe as you peak, sobbing senselessly, cool crystal soothing your heated flesh as you jerk and tremble your way to a slow halt. His spell gradually dies away, releasing you before overstimulation forces you to beg him for mercy. Your panting breaths are punctuated by the snap of his boots as he steps close.

“Ah, how  _ delightful. _ I trust we have both found ourself  _ satisfied _ by this challenge, no?”

Face afire, you nod, grateful as he bends and gently helps you to your feet. His hands linger, clinging to your form, tipping your chin up.

“Mmm… and what game should we play next, my pet?”


End file.
